The Devil On My Shoulder
by LeStrangexx
Summary: Her hands were shaking. "I-I can't shake him, Daryl. H-he's always there in th-the back of my mind, telling me I'm useless and stupid and worthless." He sent his glass flying across the room, shattering when it hit the wall. "Dammit Carol, he's gone, and he ain't comin' back again! Why in the hell can't you see that?" AU Caryl, no walkers. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1: Heavy Bags

**Hi there, guys!**

**So, here I am with my very first Caryl fic, which has been inspired by the AU meme that many of us have seen already, I'm sure. If you have not, here is a link ** post/34953986610/au-meme-the-walking-dead-carol-daryl-are . **It's quite lovely, and I think you should all love it.**

**I know I have another story going, and for those reading The Parting Glass, I will continue it. This plot bunny just demanded to be written. I hope it's enjoyable. Feedback is greatly appreciated too :D**

**-Gabby**

_A hand came across her face, hard. There was going to be a bruise, and she knew it. No impact like that would lack a mark afterwards. "This is your fault, you bitch!" The burly man before her was drunk. Her husband. Before he could get her while she was down, she shakily rose to her feet to continue with the task at hand. "If you didn't fuckin' hafta call the cops, I'd still have my goddamn job. Now, what the fuck are we gonna do?" Over the years, she learned that, sometimes, it was better not to give a response at all, so she simply continued to put neatly folded clothes into the suitcase before her. "You were just gettin' what you deserved, you dumb whore."_

That was it, the last straw. "Edward, I was nothing but faithful to you, and you accusing me of being anything besides that is... insane and downright stupid." Something about her response took him aback. This was not the woman he had molded. She never talked back or defended herself. The shock was evident on his face, so she took it as a moment to pounce. "You don't hear me calling you a man-whore, do you? Let me tell you that would be much more accurate."

"How 'bout your friend then, huh? You tellin' me you're not sleepin' with him 'cause I think that's a load of bullshit." He wasn't far off base there; she couldn't say she didn't think about being with the man, who had helped her out of this awful rut. Unlike Ed, however, she was a faithful spouse, no matter how awful the other was.

Turning from the suitcase on their bed to the dresser, she sighed heavily. "He was one of the guys working on the construction of the new addition to the hospital. We hit it off in the cafeteria one day. We're friends." Her eyes lingered on the red oak jewelry box in the center of their dresser. Half of it had to be filled with necklaces and bracelets from their early days. Whenever he would smack her around, the next day he would come home with some sort of jewel for her to keep her around. "Somewhere in that sick brain of yours you're just a scared little boy, and-" His hand rose above her. "Will it make you feel bigger if you hit me again, Ed? Better? Stronger?" For a moment, she saw the old Ed, her Ed, as he lowered his fist slightly, a momentary flash of regret crossing his face.

She had long ago learned to stop trusting those moments where the old Ed came back, but it didn't stop the tears any less. "Carol, why're you cryin'?" When she didn't answer, he grabbed her arm. "Carol, what're you doin'?" Once again, she chose not to answer him, but tore her arm from him and grabbed the entire jewelry box, not wishing to sort through it. "You leavin'?"

There it was: the question she was hoping to avoid. "Yes, Sophia and I are leaving tonight, Ed." The expression that then came across his face was unreadable, which meant her Ed was gone and her time was limited. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I can't-" The tears were back. They weren't holding back this time, streaming down her freckled cheeks. "Goodbye, Ed."

The bag was heavy in her hands, but she pulled with all her might, knowing another bag awaited her in the hall. Everything she did from here on out had to be quick, calculated even, as her drunken husband processed the information. Thankfully, her second bag had wheels, though it was twice the size of the one on her shoulder. Never had she been more grateful for having a one story house. "Sophia, get in the car," she called down the seemingly never ending hallway.

"Oh no you fuckin' don't!"

She awoke in a cold sweat. Just another dream, she told herself. It had been four years already since then. She and Ed divorced, although she was under the assumption that he signed the papers when he was drunk, and this house was where she had been living. The size was a little snug for the three of them, but it was home, nonetheless. Sophia had been so excited that there were two floors in the house. How could there have been any other option for a home? There were just two bedrooms, one for them and another for Sophia. Just outside of them was decently wide a staircase, which led down to the small foyer. Next to the white door, they had a coat rack and shoe cubbies for each of their pairs of shoes. Down the hardwood hallway, the little kitchen, a flashback to the seventies, and if it were up to her, she would have wanted something a little larger with a bit more counter space. Next was the dining room, which was not more than a circular table with three chairs around it. Between the two rooms, there was a closet, where the washer and dryer were located. She was thankful to have them, though she did miss her Maytag. The lower level room closest to the front of the house was the den. Stuffed with a love seat in one corner, a full length couch on the front wall right below the large window in the room, and a fireplace on the wall adjacent, it was a cozy place where they spent a lot of their time together.

Once her heart stopped pounding in her chest, she began to remove herself from the damp bed sheets that twisted around her body during her nightmare. The whine of the pipes running water through them alerted her that he was showering. Her feet dragged along the burgundy carpet, the moaning of the machine that helped her daughter breath at night joining the pipes. The light from under the bathroom door nearly burnt her eyes, but she pressed on as she twisted the golden knob and pushed the door open to be greeted with a wall of steam. When the door clicked closed behind her, she saw his soapy face poke out from behind the shower curtain. "Why're you up so early?" he grumbled, sleep still coating his voice. "Y'should be sleepin'."

Without giving him an answer, she scooted across the tiled floor until she reached the toilet. There, she perched herself upon the lid, bringing her knees to her chest. "Had that dream again." She rested her forehead between her knee caps. "I know I should stop letting it bother me, but it just keeps happening. I can't shake it." Salty tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and suddenly, she wished she was the one in the shower, where it was difficult to tell tears from the water pelting against her skin. "I mean, I know he's long gone, but it's like he's always gonna be here with me." Her words trailed off into incoherent, tearful babble.

Again, his face appeared from behind the curtain, now freshly rinsed. "Carol." She couldn't look up at him, not with those tears in her eyes. "Why doncha' come on in here?" Her shoulders quaked as the silent sobs threatened to escape her lungs. "C'mon, it'll help loosen up them tensed up muscles." Slowly, she lowered her limbs down from her seat upon the toilet, hearing the cracks of her tired joints. She eased her loose-fitting clothes she wore to bed off of her slender frame, dropping each item onto the tiles one-by-one, starting with his worn sweatshirt, then her old t-shirt from a church function years ago, and so on until she was left with nothing but her golden cross, small and dainty around her neck. "C'mon."

After slipping in through the front of the shower, she stood to face him, but stared down at her feet. "Turn around. Lemme get at your shoulders." There was a hesitation at first. He'd seen them all before, her scars, the burns. Every time, though, it felt like the first time he would have ever seen them. Once she did turn, his hands went to the base of her neck and rolled his thumb where her right shoulder met her neck. Pain surged from the area. She wanted to wince away, but he held her there. The bile was rising in her throat, and the pain was getting worse. Stars and spots appeared in front of her eyes, making the shower disappear in front of her.

As soon as it began, it was gone. Relief flooded her, but just in that area. The rest of her back ached for the same treatment. Much to her back's chagrin, his wet arm wrapped around her shoulders lightly, water cascading over them. "Y'know I ain't so good with this kinda shit." She felt his muscles tense up. "But you don't need to be afraid of him ever again. Hell, think he's afraid of steppin' near ya' again after I beat him to a pulp. Probably would've killed him, too."

"Daryl," she whispered, leaning her head against his arm. "Don't talk. J-just... please just-" Without another word, he snaked his free arm around her waist, and the water took them, took them away to somewhere their problems didn't exist even if it was only for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2: Sleepless

**Hi there! :D**

**First off, thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying this so far. Next, I'd like to apologize for the delay between last update and this one. Things got crazy with getting back to school after Sandy hit, but I should be able to get back into the swing of things here. **

**I hope this update is as enjoyable. Truth be told, I don't like it quite as much as the first. **

**Thank you so much for reading, guys! :)**

**-Gabby**

_No one was entirely happy about the ruckus the addition of an entirely new wing to Hazelhurst Regional Medical Center, but they hospital workers did their best to make room for the construction workers in the hospital cafeteria, especially during the days where temperatures rose above one-hundred degrees outside. They were dirty and either smelled like too much or too little deodorant. Some of them were rude and would treat the workers with a disrespect that drove them mad, and others were some of the kindest individuals that have ever walked the earth. Most days, the nurses and doctors would avoid their coffee breaks, but usually it was those who worked in the E.R. that couldn't pick and choose when they were there.___

Most of the Emergency Room nurses Carol had grown friendly with worked the night shift, but with Ed growing more unstable each day, she worked during the day as much as she possibly to be with Sophia after school. Because of her friends working different hours, she often ate lunch alone in the far corner of the cafeteria, reading a book as she munched on her sandwich. Though she would never admit it, this was where she was happiest even if there were a gaggle of dirty, smelly men around her. Even then, she never quite minded as much as her co-workers. Though they were rough for the most part, she didn't cross paths with them, so their presence never bothered her.

"'_Scuse me." Well, they didn't bother her until that moment. Her eyes lifted from her novel for a moment to look at the man standing above her. In passing, there wasn't much she would have noticed about him that she wouldn't have noticed in any of the other construction workers. Dirt was caked onto his skin, and it looked like the sweat that coated his body in the hot Georgia sun had dried in the cool air conditioning. Up close, she noticed the 'beauty mark' on his cheek and a set of stunning blue eyes that glanced around nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry to interrupt your readin', but ya' just looked like a girl I knew and wanted t'know if ya' grew up around here. Don't mean to be no bother t'ya'."_

_A small smile grew across her lips, her head nodding. "Born and raised." The man's fidgeting stopped, and he looked straight into her eyes. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she had definitely seen him before. Maybe it was just around the construction area. Something told her otherwise. Perhaps he went to school with her? He did look slightly younger than she was; however, it wasn't by much if he was. "Have we met?" The fidgeting began again as he nipped at the edge of his thumb. Some sort of déjà vu came over her at that moment. She had _definitely _seen that before… and it clicked. "Aren't you Merle Dixon's little brother?" Merle was a year older than her and had been friendly with Ed throughout their school years. He had always been a troublemaker, which is why she assumed he and Ed got along. Until their junior year, their shenanigans had been an annoyance, but harmless. After Merle turned seventeen, the cheeky pranks turned harmful. "Daryl, is it?" Merle's brother was three years younger than him, two years younger than her, and quieter and more thoughtful than the older Dixon. She could remember always wanting to make his acquaintance, but by the time she realized he existed, Ed had already grown an extreme sense of overprotection with her._

_It seemed a wave of relief seemed to wash over the construction worker as he nodded. "Yes'm, thought I recognized ya'. You were Ed Peletier's girl, right?" The way Ed's name rolled off of his tongue made her think he had done all but forgotten about the beginning stages of her husband's abuse. When she nodded, he rolled his eyes a bit. "Merle and him was thick as thieves, so he can't be up ta' too much good. Merle ain't changed much, still an obnoxious sonabitch." A chuckle couldn't help but escape her at his words, but his expression remained hard. "How're you doin', though? Still with that bastard? Barely recognized you with that hair all chopped off. It was always so long and curly."_

"_I'm fine, not at my best, but I'm chugging along." She smiled wearily at him, hoping the bruising on her face was covered up enough with her makeup. "Yeah, Ed and I got married after I graduated. I went to nursing school. He went straight into the work field. We had a daughter a few years back. After she was born, the hair became a little too much to manage." Not wanting to inundate a man she barely knew with her life's story, she shook her head and then looked at his face once again. "Why don't you sit for a bit? We can chat over some coffee."_

He would never admit it to her, but most nights, he would wait up for her in bed until she got home in the wee hours of the morning. Having grown accustom to her body next to his, he usually had trouble even closing his eyes when she wasn't there. If Merle were around, he'd call him pussy whipped, but Merle wasn't around. The truth was he didn't know where Merle was. Quite frankly, he didn't care where his asshole older brother had gone. He wouldn't have liked Carol much, so he wasn't a matter to Daryl. That woman had somehow become his world. If you asked him how it happened, he wouldn't be able to explain it. It just _did_. When they actually met, actually got to know each other, she was so shattered, her world shattered into a million, tiny pieces. Her husband beat up on her and did unspeakable things to their little girl. The world just didn't seem to be in her favor. Something in him wanted to save her, protect her even, and he supposed that somewhere along the line that feeling turned into something more.

So, now, he waited each night for her to return home from the hospital and crawl into her spot on the bed next to him. Some nights, he worried she would leave like she left Ed. Other nights, he thought Ed might find her and do things he didn't want to think about to her. Dozens of concerns swirled about his mind, disallowing him to calm down enough to attempt any form of sleep, not one of them would he voice to her. Each one of his thoughts was ridiculous, but he couldn't help feeling them. It might have been the fact that every good thing he had ever had didn't last for very long, or it could have been that he believed she deserved so much better than anything he could give her. He didn't make much money, so he couldn't provide too much when it came to his woman and her daughter. Never had he worked harder to keep someone in his life before her, even if she would stay regardless.

When the soft, yellow light from the front hall would flicker on, his heart stopped beating in his chest. She came home, and there was nothing to worry about in that moment. Her feet quietly treaded up the stairs, thinking that everyone in the house was asleep. As she slipped through their bedroom door, she flipped the switch outside to turn the hall light off before closing the door behind her. "Why're you up so late?" Most of the time, she never noticed when he waited up for her. "You'll be dragging tomorrow at work. That's no good." He didn't answer her, but simply waited for her to come join him in the bed. He wanted nothing more than to feel her curled up next to him. "Daryl?"

"Don't sleep as well when you're not here, woman," he grumbled, rising a bit to a sitting position. In the pale moonlight, he could see she was still in a set of blue scrubs with her short hair sticking up in all different directions. "C'mere." Through the dim light shining on her, he could tell she was getting ready to protest, most likely saying she hadn't showered yet or even changed at the least, but she stopped herself and shuffled from the door to sit on her side of the bed. His hand came up to run through her short locks. "Rough night?" A sigh escaped her lungs as she leaned into him, which said more than her words most likely could at that moment. Her entire body was trying come down from being so tense after a night at the hospital, but she was still internally battling something that happened.

With eyes shut tightly, she pulled his arms around her. "I don't really want to talk about it," she whispered, leaning her head into his neck. "I'm just glad to be home." Those words made him feel more at ease for he moment. That's all he needed, to know she _wanted_ to be there with him. She was _happy_ to be there with him, and nothing else mattered.


	3. Chapter 3: Phone Call

**So guys, that episode. OH MY GOD.**

**DARYL. CAROL. CARRYING. SLKDGJADS;LKJ CAROL'S BACK.**

**Okay, I'm done. Here's another update because of that episode, and there's a little Amy mention due to her phone conversation with Rick (and because I love her). I hope you guys enjoy this.**

**Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I really appreciate it all so much, and I do love being a part of this little Caryl community. YOU GUYS ARE FREAKIN' RAD.**

**-Gabby**

_Sobs, weepy, little sobs came from across the hall, which took Carol straight out of her light sleep. Sophia was crying again, her door slightly cracked open. Down the hall, Ed was watching television, likely drinking himself silly. A few years prior, he had been in a car accident that rendered incapable of full-time work, meaning his wife needed to get back to the workforce at least part time. Much to his dismay, she took to nursing as she did prior to and at the beginning of their marriage. Once their daughter had been born, everything that involved working ended for her, but that helped her keep her little girl safe. Now, there was no way of knowing when she was free from harm or not for at least part of the day._

Creeping through the open door of her bedroom, Carol swiftly stepped over all the creaky spots on the wooden floor to get to the threshold of the young girl's bedroom. Sure enough, hidden in the darkness of her room, Sophia was huddled in the corner, crying her eyes out. After quickly peeking out the door for signs of Ed, Carol softly shut the door and tiptoed over to her child. "Baby, what happened?" she whispered as she knelt down in front of Sophia. In the dim moonlight that was peeping through the cracks in the blinds, a red, freckled face could be seen, but the big, blue eyes showed a world of pain and fear. She was too young to have seen and gone through so much. Only nine years-old, and she knew far too much for someone her age. "Sophia, honey, what happened?"

"D-Daddy," she choked out, snot dribbling down her face. "He c-came in and smelled like yucky smoke and his special drinks, a-and he was j-just looking at m-me. I-I-I asked h-him if something was wrong, and he leaned over and t-touched my f-face and then-" Her tears got the better of her before she launched herself at her mother's chest. No more had to be said for Carol to understand what happened. While wanting to hold onto her daughter, her gut twisted, telling her to run for the bathroom to let anything in her stomach up. This wasn't the first time it had happened, and although she hoped it would be the last, she knew it wasn't.

Her thoughts running rampant, droplets fell from her eyes as well. She had failed her as a mother. No amount of cuddling or apologizing could fix that. Her weakness was evident when she realized she couldn't even leave an abusive husband and father to save her daughter. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was back. "I love you, Sophia." Was it even true? Did she love her? Obviously, she didn't love her enough to take her away from that wretched place.

She felt ill. 

Daryl Dixon didn't know much about taking care of children, not having had much of a chance to be one himself. For some odd reason, however, he was willing to learn, slowly and, at times, painfully, how it was done. This woman, who just so happened to be a girl he knew in high school, who worked in a hospital where his company was made him so nervous and even gave him a sick fluttering in his stomach, one he hadn't felt in quite some time. Four years later, he was taking care of her kid nearly every day. He couldn't say he completely minded. For the most part, the girl kept to herself, at least for the first few months. She would come in after school, do her homework, and then hole up in the living room, sitting on the floor up against the couch, to read a book. Gradually, after months of shooting weary glances, she warmed up to him, and even then, it didn't bother him. She liked jerky. She didn't mind a Hamburger Helper or a peanut butter and jelly dinner sometimes. She didn't talk too much. It was all he could ask for in a child.

By the time she was thirteen, she had been playing tennis for quite some time, and according to her mother who went to a few of her matches, she was pretty good despite her asthma, so that meant even more peace and quiet for him. Contrary to what he initially thought, though, he felt as though something was missing when she didn't come home right away. Carol told him that was an unspoken bond between the two of them, whether they knew it or not. Both had grown up too fast and saw more than any set of young eyes should. She was right. Sophia wasn't a kid, more like a scared, little adult thrust into the world against her will. Maybe that's why he didn't mind her company; he had been in her exact position before.

When she would arrive home, shouting, "Daryl, I'm home," he wouldn't admit it, but he breathed a silent sigh of relief. If anything happened to that kid, her mother would no doubt be a mess and a half, and although he would never tell anyone, he would be, too. Sometimes, the relationship he had gained with this little girl and her mama was worth more to him than the one he lost with his brother and father.

"Daryl, can you lock the top lock?" The question struck him odd. When he looked up from the ratty, old book in his hands, she had he back pressed up against the small patch of wall next to the front door, struggling to catch her breath. "I saw my dad today. I-I was walking home, and I saw him. He saw me. Started yelling at... at me and stuff, so I ran as fast as I could. I-I didn't even see if he followed me. I can't ever l-lock the top lock, and I don't wanna take a chance that he d-did follow me." Her wide eyes stared at him, filled with terror. She attempted to slow her breathing down in order to stop her wheezing, proving the be mostly unsuccessful in the end despite her coughing starting to lessen. "Please... don't... be mad. I don't th-think he was able t-to f-f-follow me, but I'm n-not sure."

He didn't know how to react. How could he? That bastard had been out of their lives for years. Ed treated his girls so badly, and he couldn't let that happen ever again. "Sophia, go sit down. You got your inhaler?" She nodded, hacking her lung up again. "Good, get that and sit your little a-butt down, girl. Ain't nothin' he's gonna do ta' hurt you or your momma, got it?"

Placing the inhaler in between her trembling lips, she breathed in deeply twice before speaking again. "But what if Mom comes home, and he's waiting outside because he followed me and does something to her. He can't... don't let him hurt my mom. Please, Daryl." Hey eyes were full of tears, and in that moment, she looked just like her mother, frightened and tearful. Those beautiful, crystal blue eyes stared him down as tears dripped down from them.

Something else was in them, though, which he interpreted to be uncertainty. Even after years of living with him, she still wasn't sure of him. That sparked an anger in him he never thought he could feel towards her. "You listen to me," he growled, darting towards her with his index finger pointed in her direction. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to your momma, and I'll be damned if I let that bastard ass near her again. You hear me, little girl? He gets anywhere near her, and I'll beat'm bloody. He puts a hand on her. I'll fuckin' kill him. Got it? I'm gonna take care of you and your momma and keep ya' safe. You best not worry about that."

Though her thin frame was still trembling, she spoke clearly, "He was angrier than I've ever seen him, Daryl. He'll hurt her. You can't let him do that." Her words simply enraged him more. Did she think he was unable to take care of her mother? "You don't know what he could do. You haven't seen him like that. I bet your brother hasn't even seen him like that, but I have. He almost killed Mom one time! Beat her so bad I couldn't even recognize her! So, please-" She averted her gaze to the floor, "-please, can you go and get her right now? At least tell her to come home! She's not safe. Please."

If he had been asked this on any other day, he would have told the girl she was crazy, but the frenzied tone in her voice told him something needed to be done. "Fine," he sighed, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone to dial a number in. "Your momma ain't gonna be happy, though." He paused listening to the phone ring once before a woman answered on the other end, "_Hazelhurst Regional Medical Center Emergency Room, Amy speaking._" It was one of the interns. He met her once when Carol's car was in the shop, and he had to drop her off one night. "Yeah, Amy, Carol there?" The woman took a moment to recognize the voice before shouting to the nurse he was looking for. "_She'll be right on._"

After a bit of bickering back and forth, Carol finally agreed to come home, but not before giving him hell, saying something along the lines of 'there better be a good reason for this.' Sophia's smile was broad, relief painted in her eyes, as he hung up the phone once 'I love you's were said. "Don't give me that look, kid," he grunted, pointing at her once again. "You got me in a tona' shit." Raising her hands in a defensive gesture, she retreated into the kitchen with a new book to read. "Yeah, you read that book, miss, and ya' better hope your momma don't flip every shit she has."

"I don't care. He can't hurt her. That's all that matters, right?"

"Whatever, kid. I just don't want the woman hollerin'." He wouldn't tell her, but he was just as relieved as she was.


	4. Chapter 4: Lessons

**Hello there!**

**Here is another update. I don't have much to say about it other than I apologize if it seems choppy and rushed at points. There's some fluff and some mentions of Andrea because I do find her character very intriguing. **

**I'M SO SUPER GLAD THAT YOU'RE ALL ENJOYING THIS. LIKE, WHOA. I know I say that every update, but I really am so thankful that you guys take the time to read and review, favorite, and follow. It means so much to me, so thank you for taking the time to stop by my humble, little story here.**

**- Gabby**

_Autumn was upon Georgia, and as November crept by, the weather grew cooler and cooler, temperatures almost hitting freezing at night. Even for Daryl, it was getting chilly. He would wear his sleeveless flannels as long as he could, but on that mid-November day, his sleeved shirts came out of hibernation. Nearly a year had passed since Daryl whisked Sophia and Carol from the tormenting household of Ed, having had to bring his shirts out at around that time. With their combined salaries, they managed to purchase a little house just outside of town nearly ten months later. It wasn't much due to the cost of lawyers and the like, but it was home._

His eyes scanned the orange horizon as he sipped gently at a Coke. The sunsets Georgia had to offer in autumn were to die for, even he couldn't deny that. Often, he would find himself sitting on the porch to watch as the sun went down while Sophia sat inside doing her homework. This night, however, she was staying with her grandparents. With an extended weekend for the observance of Thanksgiving, Carol's parents felt Sophia could use a nice break away from the craziness of her home life. Despite the beautiful evening views, the divorce was in its final and most dreadful throes.

Hours had passed since she had left for the courthouse. Almost immediately after he returned home from work, she grabbed the keys to his truck, their only vehicle, and left, muttering something about being late and hopefully coming home soon. He took a long sip of Coke in hopes that it would stifle his urge to pull out a cigarette. It had been quite some time since he smoked, as it was something Carol detested, but when he was nervous, he couldn't help but feel the urge to do so. Every time she had to go to the courthouse, his nerves felt shot. All of the worst possible scenarios played out in his mind, though his expression remained constant.

He hated every minute she had to be in the same room as that bastard. Although she wasn't technically his, he felt a sense of protection over her, almost like he was guarding his territory. Hell, he never even had the chance to kiss her up to that point. She told Daryl that, regardless of her ever growing feelings for him and her split from her husband, she just couldn't be with him. At least, she couldn't while she was still a married woman. Most people would be clearly confused by him staying when there was seemingly nothing in it for him. In fact, Merle told him he was downright stupid standing by her through all of her mess; however, he was a man blinded by an unconditional love for a woman he knew would make all of his waiting worth his while.

When his beat up, red pick-up truck pulled into the small driveway, he felt his heart pound against the inside of his chest. Was she bringing bad news? Good news? Any news at all? Her expression was unreadable as she gathered some papers together that she had placed on the passenger seat. The greying hair on her head was messily arranged probably from nervously running her fingers through it. She looked so tired, and those oceanic eyes closed for a moment. Every part of him wanted to run to her, but he stayed where he was, taking another sip of Coke. The door of the truck swung open followed by her thin legs leading her out.

This had been the first time he had seen her in a skirt. It was blue, falling just above her knees. She paired in with a long-sleeved, white, button-down shirt, a pair of black tights, a pair of black boots, and her little, golden cross. As she came up the pathway, her eyes caught his own. Breath catching in his throat, he nodded her way. "Hey," she called to him. That soft, caring smile which seemed to play across her lips frequently always got him. God, how he wanted to just take her in his arms and hold her there for a thousand years, but all he uttered in response was, "Hey."

She stood there for a good, long time with her eyes focused on the papers clutched in her hands. As Merle had scolded time and time again, "Ya's like a couple a' dumb ass kids." He knew Merle was right, and in any other situation he would totally agree with him. With Carol, however, he never minded as much. He would be as stupid and childish as he wanted to be, which showed in his gaze shifting to the can in his hand while moving it from hand to hand. "How'd it go?" For weeks, he asked her the same question, receiving the same heavy sigh as an answer.

The answer he got was significantly different this time around. She continued to look down at the papers in her hands, eyeing the top one intently. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was reading it and rereading it over and over again. Her blue orbs finally met his again after a solid twenty seconds. "Well, it's done." That timid smile was back and so was the thumping in his chest. "I guess that means it went pretty well."

Before either one of them could take a moment to hesitate, their lips had crashed together, his hand grasping the back of her neck. Compared to his dry, cracked lips, her mouth was soft and tasted of mint and a slight tinge of vanilla. Her skinny frame froze at the initial touch, not realizing that she was no longer a married woman, but eased into his kiss, breaking one of her hands from its hold on the papers to rest on his side. Suddenly self-conscious of how dirty and gruff he was, he backed out of the kiss first no matter how much he was dying for more of her sweet touch. His face felt hot, and all of the sweat that had dried from the day was resurfacing. He didn't want to open his eyes, for the fear of disgust being displayed across her face. "Any good? Ain't had much practice with that in some time."

Despite himself, he opened one squinted eye to find a crystal blue one staring back at him. She was smiling at him, a real, big, genuine smile with teeth and all. "Yeah," she replied, nervous giggling lacing the word. It was only then that he noticed she was shaking almost as much as him. They really were like a couple of teenagers, he thought. "Yeah, it was good." She had such a pretty smile, one he wished she wore more often, and a lovely set of pearly whites to match. "Haven't had much practice myself in a while."

Almost all of the stiffness in his body dissipated as he pulled her close to him, taking in the scent of her perfume, her shampoo, trying to savor the taste of mint on his lips. He wanted to remember this moment just as they were because, as he had long since learned, good things don't last nearly as long as you'd like them to last. "Ya' ain't his no more," he whispered against her forehead. "Ya've become your own woman now. How's that feel?"

_"Kinda' tastes like Coca Cola, to be honest."_

Daryl ran a hand down his face as her voice screeched through the speaker of his cell phone. "_What do you mean she hasn't come out to the parking lot yet?_" Even though it had been almost three months since the last encounter with Ed, Daryl still picked Sophia up from every activity she participated in. Usually, he would wait for her in the red, pick-up until she came walking out with a friend or two for maybe twenty minutes, but she hadn't come out for almost two hours from her after school, math tutoring session. "_Daryl, are you listening to me? Where is Sophia? Did you go in and check with the teacher? Did you think to call anyone besides me?_"

He loved Carol. He truly did with all his heart, but when she got like this, asking him so many questions without giving him a chance to answer, he had a very difficult time handling her. "Dammit, Carol," he sighed with a hand rested over his eyes. "No, I didn't do that. Gonna go in right now and talk to that fuckin' prick of a teacher." The most recent back to school night for Sophia was the first one Carol had asked him to attend, and right off the bat, something in him detested the girl's math teacher. Though Carol was sure it was because he always hated math, he was sure there was something else about her that irked him. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"_I still don't understand why you didn't do this earlier_." She was really getting on his case, and although he couldn't really blame her for doing so, it was still getting to him. "_Check with the Morales's house if she isn't in the school. If she isn't there…_" The word trailed off. He could tell she didn't really want to think that far ahead. She definitely did not want that to be the case. "_Just find her please._" The harsh tone in her voice had dissolved into a worrisome and shaky one, turning his annoyance with her to pity. "_Make sure she's alright. I don't want her somewhere cold and alone._"

The shaking in her voice had gotten to the point where he knew she was on the verge of tears. He had to let her get back to work, so she could do something to distract herself even slightly. "She's gonna be just fine. I'll talk to you soon." As much as he wanted to believe his own words, he couldn't, especially when he saw that condescending ass of a teacher leaving the school building. "Love you, Carol. Gotta go." Before hearing a response, he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and bounded from the truck. "Hey! Miss-" For the life of him, he couldn't remember her name. "Miss…"

The blonde looked up, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Williams. Andrea Williams. Can I help you?" She eyed him with curiosity through narrowed eyelids. Once she realized who she was dealing with, which wasn't too difficult considering the small size of the seventh grade, she raised her eyebrows. "You're Sophia Peletier's… step-father, correct?" Though he wouldn't put it in so many words, considering he and Carol hadn't gotten to actually getting married, he nodded. "I remember seeing you and her mother at back to school night. She's a bright girl, but I wouldn't say any sort of math is really her strongest point. I think my sister's mentioned her mom, though. Carol, right? My sister's an intern at the hospital where she works."

Quite frankly, he didn't care about the woman's sister, or the fact that she knew Carol. His main goal was getting that little girl back safely to her mother, and he was going to do it even if it killed him to talk to this woman. "I know she was gettin' tutored by you every Tuesday after school. Been waitin' here to pick her up. She was supposed to get outta there almost two hours ago." Andrea blinked at him for a moment, not fully comprehending the question he was asking. "Did you see her leave?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but we did stay almost an hour later than usual. I apologize for that. She left my classroom around four. I haven't seen her since then. She may still be inside. The front doors are unlocked until five-fifteen. You should still be able to get inside." Those were the exact words he wanted to hear. The doors were unlocked, meaning anyone, including Ed, could get inside. Someone could have grabbed her. Muttering an insincere 'thank you,' he darted into the school building. It almost reminded him of the hospital, white walls and floors with fluorescent lights pounding down onto his head. Room numbers and lockers filled his head, but didn't quite stick. All he needed to do was find Sophia and bring her back safely. Her own father wouldn't have done something like this for her. It was the least he could do. "Sophia?" His pace quickened when he heard faint whimpers from down the hallway. "Soph-" In his hurry, the 'caution wet floor sign' must have passed by in a blur because he lost his footing only after only a few feet of travel, sending him right onto his back. "God dammit," he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Sophia? That you down there? Fuck." His hand had red on it. "That's never a good thing."

"Daryl?" Regardless of his newfound injury, he jolted up, pain shooting through his back and head. "Are you okay?" There, Sophia stood in the same green sweatshirt she left for school in that morning; the one she always had a tendency to bite the bottoms of the sleeves. Her eyes were bright red and puffy from what looked like crying. The little sneakers on her smaller than average feet were untied, the laces sloppily flopping about. "Daryl?" Never was he so happy to see a messy, sad kid.

Gripping the handle of a nearby locker, he brought himself back up onto his feet. "Sophia, we were worried 'bout you. Been goin' nuts wonderin' where you were." He thought about scolding her, but decided against it, considering her disheveled appearance. "C'mon. Let's get back to the truck. We'll talk there." The tale she told was stupid, little kid drama that he was once a part of himself. Apparently, the other children in her math class had poked fun of her for her lacking abilities in math and also called her a 'freckle-faced, curly-headed freak.' "Do you know what I did to kids like that when I was in school?" he asked her, a smirk growing across his features.

Carol came home early that evening after not getting another call from Daryl, immediately relieved, yet still slightly concerned, upon seeing Daryl repeating, "Miss with the fist, catch with the elbow," like a mantra to her daughter.


	5. Chapter 5: Atticus Finch

**Hey there, everybody!**

**First and foremost, I hope everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving filled with too much food and good times with family and friends! :) Among other things, I'm thankful for all of the readers I've gained with this story and The Parting Glass (which I need to write something for soon D: ). You guys are the best! CARYL FOR ZEE WIN!**

**Here's a new chapter. I like it for the most part, and this is how I would imagine Daryl reacting to certain news, not to say I haven't loved his reactions in other stories. ;) I hope you all enjoy.**

**-Gabby**

**P.S. I've been waiting all week for a fantasmic Caryl scene, as I'm sure we all have, so goddamn, we better get one. HAPPY SUNDAY, EVERYONE!**

_Carol stood before her own reflection, admiring herself, but only slightly. A white gown with a v-shaped neckline adorned her thin body, clinging to her hips. It proved her to be much shapelier than anyone would have thought. The dress had delicate, lace detailing on the entirety of its fabric. Small, pearly beads were strewn among the lace, outlining the flowers and vines. Made of a white, silky material, a belt with the same beading wrapped itself around her small waist. Her golden cross was the only piece of jewelry she wore to accompany her dress; it was the only contrast between her pale skin and the light color of the dress. Messy curls, usually toppling from her head and past her shoulders, were pulled into a sloppy, side braid, and little, rhinestone pins stuck out from between her dark locks. _

_This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but she was crying. She had been crying since before she fell asleep the night prior. A day that was supposed to be so beautiful was turning out to be so full of dread. Never in her life did she feel so alone regardless of the majority of her family showing up as well as Ed's, not that there was much family to show up for either of them. Their friends were there to support them, yet still, she felt alone. Once the day was over, it was no longer going to be his or her family or his or her friends. _Their_ friends. _Their_ family. Nothing was going to be solely hers. She was always going to have _him_, but she still felt isolated more than ever. _

"_Carol, honey." Her mother. Her sweet mother knew nothing of her daughter's life. She, like so many others, assumed everything was wonderful and happy. "Why are you cryin'?" Her warm hand rubbed Carol's back to comfort her. It was the sort of comfort Carol didn't want, saying 'it's fine. You're nervous, but it will all be fine. I promise.' Nothing was okay. Nothing was never okay, even if you were promised that it would be. "You're gonna mess all that pretty make-up up with all them tears, sugar. Here, let me grab a tissue for ya'."_

_Before her mother got the chance, Carol grabbed the woman's wrist to bring her attention back. "Mama, what if…" The lump in her throat was rising again, but she did all she could to stop the tears. "Mama, what if I'm not sure about all this?" Her mother's head cocked to the side, questioning the words just spoken to her. "What if I'm not sure I want all of… _this_? We're both pretty young, Ed and me, y'know? What if this isn't right? What if we're rushin' things along too quickly? I-I just don't want this to be something I'll be regrettin' a few years from now. I wanna see things, y'know?" She stared into her mother's eyes, hoping to see any form of understanding in them. Regrettably, she came up empty handed, as her mother just stood there staring back at her with a small, but vacant, smile perched upon her lips. "Mama, I don't know if I wanna see all those things with Ed. What if he's not the right person to see those things with? Mama, do you hear what I'm saying?"_

_Her mother smiled a motherly smile while moving behind her, their reflections shining back at them. "Don't be silly, Carol." Soft hands rubbed at her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down. "I don't think this is any mistake at all. Ed's a good man to you. Besides, we don't need you bein' no runaway bride, now do we?" The older woman reached for the jewelry box that lay on the vanity beside the full-length mirror. Pink-colored finger nails poked through the mess of necklaces and bracelets spilling from it. "Now, let's get you dolled up, sweet thing. How 'bout my pearls?" She held up a string of large pearls around her daughter's neck, looking at her reflection to admire her handiwork. "Yeah, that'll look real nice."_

_Disgust ran through Carol. Though she loved her mother dearly, the woman was so dense sometimes, stuck in her own little, dream world. "No, I don't wanna wear those," she snapped, standing to tower over her small mother. "I'll be wearin' Nan's cross, and that's it, Mama." The pair stood there for a moment, just looking at one another. They really were quite alike in looks with the same narrow face, button nose, thin, pink lips, and a bound of brown, curly hair tumbling from their heads, her mother's greying a bit. Something was different about the two, though, and nearly everyone commented on it. She had her father's wide, thoughtful, blue eyes, rather than the dull, green eyes her mother had. "I like Nan's cross better than any of-"_

"_I understand, Carol," her mother interjected. The short woman placed the string of pearls back into the jewelry box carefully before smiling once again at her daughter. "Y'know, you are your father's daughter with that nasty mouth of yours. I'd simmer down if I was you, darlin'. Might get your husband angry with ya'." Carol struggled to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. "I'll send your father in." The nerve of her mother astounded her. Not only did she completely throw her daughter's fears to the wind, but now, she was giving her advice to the one thing she was having second thoughts about. It was unbelievable._

"_Care?" Her eyes snapped up to the man standing in the doorway. He was tall, hair gone completely grey, wrinkles surrounding his eyes and gracing his forehead above his tortoiseshell glasses. "You know the old woman's a nut. I wouldn't pay her much attention." The small, toothless smile danced across his features. "Well, that's what I would do '_if I was you_.'" She couldn't stifle the laugh that was bubbling within her, as her father poked fun at her mother. "I, however, am not you, and she isn't either. Neither of us can make your choices for you, Carol." His hands placed themselves on either one of her shoulders, and he stared straight into her matching eyes. "If you think this is right for you, you go and walk down that aisle to Ed. If it isn't, you go ahead and put on those running shoes." She chuckled again. "Either way, you'll still be alright with me, kid." _

_He did exactly what he always did when she was upset, then: pulled her into a big, bear hug, squeezing her so tightly it began to hurt. It always made her fears go away, whether it was the dark or falling into an unhappy marriage that was frightening her. Frequently, she would tell her father he reminded her of Atticus Finch of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ when she was young, saying that he was a good dad even if he didn't act quite like or was older than the other fathers, and that he taught her all the things that she needed to know about in life, just like Atticus taught his daughter. "I love you, Scout."_

"_I love you, too, Dad," she whispered into his chest, taking in his scent (old coffee and mint), so she could remember him just as he was in that very moment._

"Fuck, Carol." Daryl stood, running his hand through his hair. "Fuck, what're we gonna do?" He slammed his fist into the top of the wooden dresser. His eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty, something she had never witnessed in him. "Dammit, Carol! Why'd you go and do that?" Once again, he started pacing around the room, like he had been doing since she began speaking to him when she got home. "Fuck, fuck, fuckin' fuck!" he growled as he dragged his fingers through his short hair again. There was nothing she could do or say to please him, so she chose to say nothing at all, knowing that wouldn't be the answer to anything either. "Why in the hell did you gotta go and do that?" He slammed his fists into the mattress, causing her to flinch away. "Jesus Christ!"

Continuing on his tirade, he screamed obscenities and anything else he could think of into the quiet night air. It was nearing five-thirty in the morning, and he had already been at this for a couple of hours. Each time he spoke it started with somehow taking the blame off of him. "Why'd you do that?" or "What were you thinking?" were the mainly the things he grunted about in his ranting. "Daryl," she finally piped up, stopping him dead in his tracks. "It's not like this is entirely my fault." She could feel anger bubbling inside of her, but the last thing she wanted to do was try to fight with him. "You can't just blame me even if that's what you want to do."

It was still dark. She hadn't turned the light on after she came home, but she could still see him perfectly, staring at her with bulging eyes in the light of the moon. Not normally having much to say when it came to arguments, he was stunned when she actually had a comeback to his burst of rage this time around. Something about that made it all worthwhile for her to just sit back during most arguments. The lack of response due to sheer shock brought her the tiniest amount of joy. In all of her years married to Ed, she hadn't been able to react to him yelling without getting a swift reminder as to why she didn't normally do that. Daryl, on the other hand, had to take her words into consideration.

Sliding down onto the floor across from her, he buried his face in his hands. "What do we do, Carol?" he finally asked. His tone took her by surprise. He sounded so vulnerable and weak, which is something he generally tried to not be when she was around. What she need was strength and stability in her life after all of those years with Ed. "What the fuck're we gonna do?" His knees lifted to his head, and he leaned against them, hands still covering his face. "Oh god," he sighed, his voice muffled. "I don't… I dunno what t'do, Carol."

Considering his words, she answered him simply, "It's not about what _you're_ going to do. _We_ will do something about it. _We'll_ work it out and work through it, okay? I realize it's a terrifying thing. Lord knows I do, Daryl." She stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "But we'll make it work. It's what we do." Nudging him with the toe of her foot, his eyes peeked out from between his fingers. The childlike nature of his gaze almost made her want to grin, but she refrained. His steely eyes were shining in the moonlight with fear. "We'll work with it."

The gaps in his fingers closed again as he shook his head repeatedly. "Carol, I ain't ready for somethin' like this yet. Shit, I don't think I'll ever be." His voice was wavering almost like he was on the verge of tears. "Carol, I can't fuckin' do this. I can't. I ain't no fatherin' material. Hell, I was basically raised by Merle, and both of us know he ain't exactly a role model of any sort. I've never even held no baby before." With hands moving from his face to his hair, sweat was shown to be pouring down his skin, or maybe the dampness was tears. She couldn't be sure. "Carol, I can't."

She slid her body off of the bed, so she was sitting across from him. Gently, she pulled one of his hands from the top of his head. "Hey, listen to me." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but still firm enough for him to take her words seriously. "It's still within the first three months. Anything can happen, especially at my age. With age comes more complications, so there's a chance this might not even work out. If this does work out, though, you'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll all be fine. You're not your brother or your father. You're your own man, and you'll make a good father."

For a moment, he stared at her in a sort of trance, eyes glazing over slightly. "You sure?" he asked quietly, letting his other hand fall from his hair.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

**Note: I'm sorry if it's not clear, but there's a baby potentially on the way. MY APOLOGIES FOR NOT MAKING THAT TOO CLEAR D:**


	6. Chapter 6: Ain't Doin' Nothing, George

**Hi there!**

**I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend and their first day this December! As always, thank you guys for reading, favoriting, and reviewing this. It means the world to me that you read and enjoy this little story of mine :) **

**This chapter brings a lot more fluffy action, but I can't promise it'll last for long. The quote credit goes to John Steinbeck's _Of Mice and Men_, which is one of my favorite pieces of literature. LOVE ME SOME STEINBECK. Anyway, I love little Daryl and young Carol. They're cute to write.**

**I hope you all like this bit, and let's all hope for the best during tomorrow's mid-season finale.**

**-Gabby**

_As far back as he could remember, Daryl's father regularly told him three things to always keep in mind: "Boy, always aim for the head. Don't wanna damage nona' tha' meat," "Boy, don't do nothin' against me or ya' brother. Kin is kin," and "Boy, a woman ain't gonna love ya' forever, so ya' best find one witha' good set o' jugs 'cause yer gonna need some reason ta' keep 'er." Once high school began, he started really taking the words to heart. Whenever he, Merle, and their father went hunting, he always shot at the head, usually being the only one to catch anything while his daddy and Merle often laughed in a drunken stupor, but he never once complained because, after all, they were his kin, his blood. As for the third word of advice, well, Daryl didn't have much use for girls at fifteen since he had the outdoors and his brother and father. He also had picked up a liking for reading, though he would usually venture off into the woods and up into a tree when he would read anything to avoid any backlash from his family._

He wouldn't ever dream of telling them, but he didn't understand why his brother and father thought reading was a bunch of 'pussy bullshit,' as they called it. Books were great, to him at least. The only reason he could figure they thought books were for girls was because they only associated books with cheesy romance novels, which he had already decided weren't as bad as people always told him. His usual plan of action was to check out a book at the school library and then make a run for his bicycle, without making his brother aware of his escape. Once he was a ways away from his home, he would leave his bike up against a tree before diving into the woods to find the perfect tree to climb up and sit in until it grew dark. Daryl was still pretty small and hadn't hit the growth spurt he hoped would come soon, so it wasn't too difficult to find one of a good size. The tree he had grown fond of at that point was one with a large stump; it was one he couldn't even fit his arms around. From the trunk, three large branches, which could've made decently sized trees themselves, pulled off, leaving the perfect spot for him to stretch out.

Figuring it was only about three o'clock, he gave himself about four hours to get through the remainder of the book he had checked out three days before on Monday, making this a record for fastest he'd read a book even though it was considerably shorter than most books. Once he settled into the crook of the tree, he pulled the pages open, reading aloud the first few words he picked back up on: "'Old Candy watched him go. He looked helplessly back at Curley's wife, and... gradually his... sorrow and his anger grew into words.'" He stumbled over a couple of the words, internally slapping himself for not being able to read the simple words as quickly as he would've liked.

"So, the little Dixon is a Steinbeck fan?" Daryl nearly took a tumble from the tree upon hearing the words being spoken to him. He had been found out, but by who he wasn't sure. The shock of someone finding him didn't really allow much time for him to process the situation to avoid any further humiliation, he buried his face in the book. "Nice to know one of you is actually literate." It wasn't Merle or his daddy or one of Merle's dumb friends. A woman was talking to him. With narrowed eyes peeking over the edge of the cover, he looked at the speaker, confirming that it was indeed a woman. She was the girl Merle's best friend was going with. Carol was her name. He removed the book from his face, concluding she was harmless, but didn't take his eyes off of her. "I read that in junior high. It was one of my favorites. The teacher... you have Mister Turner?" Daryl shook his head. "Well, the guy wanted to be an actor, but ended up as an English teacher. Anyways, he liked to give really enthusiastic readings to the class, and his Lenny impression was spot on. 'I ain't doin' nothin' George.'" She had changed her voice to be one that was deeper and a little garbled, reminding him of his daddy's, and he couldn't hold his chuckles back. "It was a good class."

Of all the times he had seen this girl, he never remembered actually listening to her or even really looking at her. Besides never really having a use for girls, he hadn't had much of an interest; often leading to gay jokes directed at him by Merle and his friends when they were drunk or high. In that moment, however, he listened to her talk about John Steinbeck and her experience in English classes and watched her brown curls bounce around as she spoke. Her whole person was very animated, moving around while talking and smiles played on her face at many different moments. It was only until she asked one question that he was simply able to hum in response to make it seem as though he was actually paying attention. "Hey, any room up there?" He didn't want to say yes. In fact, he wanted to shout the opposite at her. This place was his sanctuary, and now, some girl he barely knew wanted to ruin that for him. It was asinine, but he nodded anyway, still completely silent. "Rad."

Surprisingly, she was able to shimmy her skinny self up across from him in a matter of seconds. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, though, being a lanky kid himself. Once she was up close, he really took a good look at her face. It was long and thin, much like the rest of her, with rosy cheeks and a small, kind smile. He eyes bright blue, the color brought out by her dark curls and a little too much sparkle in her for his liking, but even he had to admit, they were beautiful. He reminded her of that girl from that movie Merle always watched around Halloween, but prettier with features that were much softer. "Ed doesn't care for books too much. Come to think of it, most of my friends don't either. Glad to have someone who does, at least a little bit."

A sick feeling started to grow in the pit of his stomach. It almost felt like he was going to vomit, but no gagging went on, just the sick feeling. Warmth spread through him from the tips of his toes to his earlobes. He could feel his cheeks burning. "You okay, kid?" For once, he wanted to answer, but came up empty handed. He was only able to nod, eliciting a laugh from his counterpart. The sick feeling went away a small bit, being replaced with anger and embarrassment. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Dixon," she scoffed, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

As much as he wasn't, and probably never would be, ready to be a father, his woman looked so happy with that little person inside of her. She was still early on, barely showing at all, but there was a brightness about her he rarely saw. He had heard that women were supposed to glow when they were pregnant, but before actually seeing it for himself, he thought it was a load of bull. That night she had proved that to be a completely wrong opinion.

She had managed to switch shifts with one of the nurses who worked during the day, so she was able to join him at the construction company's Christmas party. It was no black tie affair, but everyone dressed much nicer than they would on a normal day. He'd be damned if he had ever seen so many usually dirty men dressed so fancily with their wives on their arms. Though he also had to admit, he had the most beautiful one in the room. It was something he wouldn't tell her, though, as it seemed best not to do too many things that made her emotions go crazy in one direction because they were bound to go just as crazy in the opposite direction later one.

Just like she had told him, she cleaned up nicely. For the occasion, she had gone out and gotten a new dress. It was deep red, a color that seemed to be her favorite, velour with long sleeves that fit her just well enough to show off how thin but shapely she was, also displaying the small, barely noticeable bump that had started to form on her otherwise flat figure. "Ed never let me wear things like this," she commented once she was dressed. "But I thought it was fun, and it was twenty percent off." The skirt fell right at her knees, but she still felt the need to add a pair of stockings to the ensemble. She laughed to herself as she straightened the dress, so the void of fabric at the top of her back was centered. "I liked the red anyway. I always have, but y'know, it's apparently a color for harlots. How does it feel to be with a harlot, honey?"

That laugh, which was music to his ears, rang through the air as he buttoned up his shirt. "Finest whore I ever did see right there. Feels pretty good." It was true. He was always so proud to have her with him, and that particular night was no different. Seeing her beam with so much happiness almost made him want to grin like an idiot, which he refrained from doing as to maintain his reputation with his coworkers. Instead, he would simply rest his hand on the small of her back, snarling at any man that walked by and took a look at her. The beauty she was radiating was not helping his possessive nature. "Stop it with the whole pretty thing, woman. I seen 'bout twenty guys eye your ass up already," he sighed into her ear, rubbing her exposed shoulder blade. "I think all them damn harlots wore red 'cause it gets dickheads lookin' at 'em."

Smiling up at him, she leaned her mouth upwards to whisper into his ear. Her words were quiet enough that only the two of them could hear. Redness spread like wildfire across his cheeks, his face and her dress suddenly matching, and anyone watching could suddenly be clued in as to what she had said to him. "Lookin' a little flushed there, Dixon," she chuckled, pinching his nose. "No need to go and get your panties all in a bunch there." She bumped her hip into his friskily before that sick feeling he knew all too well had returned to the pit of his stomach again.

"I ain't doin' nothin', Carol." Her laugh resonated in his ears, and the stupid grin he fought so hard to keep off of his face slipped out across his lips.


	7. Chapter 7: Hovering

**Hey there, everyone!**

**I apologize for this being so delayed and that this may be forcibly fluffy; I'm just getting the flufftastic before the sad times start, which is coming next chapter. Now that I'm on break, I should be able to pump out a few chapters. The next one is almost finished and will probably be up some time tomorrow.**

**I'm so glad as always that you're enjoying and reviewing, favoriting, and following. It means the world to me. Thank you so much, and if the next chapter isn't up before Christmas as planned, I hope, if you're celebrating, that your holiday is lovely and filled with joy. :)**

**-Gabby**

_"What ya' doin' with Ed's woman?" Merle shoved Daryl against the door of his truck. He had just gotten home from another round of drug-related jail time, and while Daryl didn't assume he would be receiving a warm and fuzzy welcome from his brother, this wasn't quite what he expected either. With a hand on either one of his younger brother's shoulders, Merle held the smaller man against the cool metal. "The fuck were ya' thinkin', boy? Ya' don't up an' take another man's wife! It just ain't right! A friend's woman's off limits, little bro!"_

Attempting to look at him, Daryl struggled to open his swollen left eye. Merle had caught him leaving the auto shop where he had picked up a second job and immediately started throwing the punches. "Well, didn' Pa always tell ya' ta' treat yer girl right? Always told us not t'lay a finger on any girl." Daryl seethed at him, spitting the blood that had pooled in his mouth out towards the older Dixon. "Ed wasn't treatin' her n'good a' all. Didn' even getta' give 'er a kiss 'til th' divorce was done a couplea' weeks ago. Lord knows I wanted ta'."

Merle's eyes narrowed at his younger brother's words. "I dun' believe that none. Ed was always good ta' that girl even after she got tha' damn butch haircut and gave'm a lil' girl when he wanted a boy." The two stared at each other for a moment, Daryl shoved up against his truck with Merle's hands tightening on his shoulders. Silent words flew between them through their panicked and pained gazes alike. "Ya've gatta' be shittin' me, Daryl. Christ, he's my friend. Have ya' sealed the deal with her yet?"

The blood beginning to stop pooling in his mouth, Daryl glared at the older Dixon. "Tha' all ya' care 'bout Merle? Well, I ain't even thought 'bout it 'cause she ain't really lookin' fer tha' kinda comfort righ' now." Swiftly, he pulled his leg up to kick Merle straight in the gut, successfully getting his brother off of him. With a thud, Merle landed on his back on the gravel behind him. "Ya' hafta' be shittin' me if yar' gunna choose tha' womun bea'er over me. Kin is kin, 'member?"

Looking up at his baby brother's battered face, his left eye was swollen shut, his nose was bent toward the right, blood streaming from it, and his lower lip had grown double its usual size, more blood dribbling out of his mouth. Daryl's boot rested on his brother's chest, his eye that was able to open focusing on Merle's face that now had drips of his blood on it. "He 'us really hittin' up on 'er then?"

Daryl nodded. "Broke'er leg in three places kickin' tha' shi' outta 'er once when she ga' home t'late. Treated 'er like yesterday's trash. Think uh'lady oughta go through tha'? I know ya's an ass when yer high off ya' ass, but I know sober ya' ain't gonna treat no woman like tha'."

Merle had no words as Daryl lifted his foot off of him and staggered over to his truck, heaved his injured form into the driver's seat, and then drove off. In his mind, he felt his brother had just posed a ultimatum for him: a choice between the only friend who stuck with him throughout his life or the only family he had left. 

"Merle, could you please pass the turkey?" Carol requested, pointing to the platter the light and dark meat was upon. Merle raised his eyes from his plate to her then shifted his gaze to the turkey before handing it over to her. "Thank you very much." It still struck him as being odd to see her with someone who wasn't Ed, let alone with his brother. For as long as he had known her, she and his old friend had been attached at the hip. Through high school, they both had seemed to be happy as could be, but all those years they had been together, he hadn't seen her look as content as she did.

Christmastime usually brought joy about to many people, but the way this woman smiled at his brother was something other than the holiday spirit. She just seemed happy. There was nothing else in her expression, a joyed feeling radiating from her being. "Merle, potatas," Daryl said at him with a mouth full of food already. A smirk grew across the older brother's face as he concocted a cheeky response in his head.

Much to his misfortune, Carol's little girl, Sophia, piped up instead. "Mama always says you've gotta say please when you ask for something," she chimed in, eyes lifting to mischievously look at Daryl. "Isn't that right, Daryl?" She giggled as he shoved her shoulder gently and mutter 'please' under his breath. "Don't be mad. Those are Mama's rules not mine." She gave him a small smile. "Besides, Mama always says you need to brush up on your manners."

"Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, lil' miss. Daryl over 'ere's always been the good one." Sophia suppressed a laugh as Merle handed a suspicious Daryl the bowl of potatoes. Giving his younger brother a toothy smile, he turned to Sophia and brought his voice down to a whisper. "'Cept this one time I took an arrow ta' tha' rear end when my baby brother over there 'us still learnin' how t'aim. Man, it hurt like hell, and I ain't never heard no one yell like I did at'im."

When Sophia burst in to hysterics and even Carol had to hold back her laughs, Daryl just looked down at his food. "Reckon I shoulda' shot ya' in the head. Wouldn't have ya' givin' me an achin' in my own now," he grumbled, slopping a mound of potatoes onto his plate. A chuckle still escaping Carol, she pushed his shoulder, mumbling some along the lines of 'play nice' to him. "He's embarrassin' me. Like hell I'm gonna be nice to him." Carol turned to him with eyebrows raised, and suddenly, his stern look turned to that of a scared child. Something Merle hadn't ever seen even when their mama was still alive happened then. "Sorry, Merle. Could ya' not tell stories like that ta' the girl at least? Embarrasses me, y'know?" Never once had Daryl so easily apologized to anyone. When they were little, he would only even give the slightest apology if their mother screamed at him or their father threatened to beat him. How much had changed almost scared the daylights out of him.

In fact, he hated change more than anything in the entire world. If it were up to him, everything would stay the exact same every day of every month of every year, and seeing Daryl so comfortable in such a family setting was the opposite of remaining unchanged. Even after dinner was finished, he helped pile up the empty plates and walked them in to the kitchen for Carol. Merle couldn't stand it much longer. His brother was never one to help out with household chores, so he couldn't fathom why he would be doing such a thing now. Let alone, the younger brother had _insisted_ he bring the dishes in for his woman, claiming that she had no place doing so with an aching back. "He always like that?" Merle posed the question toward Sophia, who giggled in response. "It ain't no joke, kid. I ain't never seen anythin' like this."

His eyes followed the pair to kitchen where Daryl placed the large stack of plates, casserole dishes, and trays upon the countertop next to the sink. Before turning to her task of washing the dishes, Carol smiled up at him and rested a hand right above his elbow, giving it a light squeeze. "Goddamn, he's gone all damn soft on me." He observed his baby brother move himself behind the woman and lean forward over her shoulder. "Now, he ain't even showin' damn shame!"

"No," Sophia interjected, tapping his hand. "Look." As per the little girl's wish, he looked again at the sight in the kitchen, a little more closely this time around. Daryl's hands hovered above Carol's hips, so slightly they almost appeared to be touching the material of her shirt. Likewise, his head was not buried in her neck, but rather, it was less than an inch away from her skin. "He's been doin' that lately. I'm not sure why." Though he tried his hardest not to, Merle couldn't help but frown at how much he was acting like their father—the father Daryl never got to know.

Before he was born, their daddy was a gentler person, but the postpartum depression that set in on their mother killed Mister Dixon inside. The woman who was once his everything was crumbling before him. After Daryl was born, Merle's and his father took no liking to him, thinking he was some child of hell, as no normal child could to that to their mother. Even so, Daryl was doing just as his father did while his mother was pregnant with him: he hovered. He wouldn't touch her—afraid she would break at the slightest touch—but would be there to watch over her carefully. "Ain't nothin' a Dixon wouldn't do." Merle shrugged. "My baby brother's bein' real good to yer momma?" The young girl stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Good, Dixons don't treat no woman bad."

"You guys have an unwritten code or something?"

"Don't be a smartass, kid."


End file.
